


Speed Racer, movie novelization

by MadManMoody



Category: Speed Racer (2008)
Genre: Gen, Multi, Novelization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26171455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadManMoody/pseuds/MadManMoody
Summary: A novelization of the movie Speed Racer based off the original 2007 first draft, with several minor changes to streamline the novel.
Relationships: Mifune Gou | Speed Racer/Shimura Michi | Trixie
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

From the front of the room, it wasn't as easy to hear the constant squeak of the worn sneakers moving against the smooth classroom floor. 

The shoes making the noise had long ago been decorated in the art style of their owner, covered in cars racing over every curve of the canvas with the words "START YOUR ENGINES" scribbled so deep in the fabric that the owner's mother had not been able to scrub them out even after a great deal of effort. 

The shoes beat up and down in a blur of movement. They were a sewing machine of anxious, restless, pent up adolescent energy, yearning to burst free. 

The owner of these shoes sat impatiently at his desk, his pencil tapping against the standardized test in front of him, lines of empty white ovals stretching out in front of him. 

The pencil moved and filled in an oval, then hesitated, lingering over the oval like a hummingbird, twitching. The other ovals stretched out again.

Then quickly it flipped over and the smudge of pencil lead in the oval disappeared. 

Just as quickly another oval is filled in and the pencil again lingers. Around it tiny marks and smudges, the remains of more than a dozen erased marks.

The ten-year-old owner of the shoes stared for a long moment at the next questions. 

The words washing over him. 

A girl buys jelly beans, they cost so much a bag, there are colors, how much does each color cost? 

He reads the question noiselessly to himself, his mouth wordlessly moving to try and work the question out. 

Any meaning is lost on him.

Around him the other students diligently sit, silently filling out their papers. He can't stop fidgeting, his legs beating, his pencil fluttering. He strains, like a pot of water just on the edge of boiling over.

He reads the question again. Again the words fall meaningless from his silent lips. It might as well be Greek or Chinese.

His eyes dart to the clock. The thin red arm pushes forward, undeterred by anything else. 

Eyes dart back to the test.

The clock one more time.

And then it clicks

The pencil flies across the paper. Where there had been hesitation, now the pencil flies with speed and confidence that had not been there even a second before. The questions don't even matter at this point.

\- - -

"Distracted?" the boy's mother asked.

The teacher's office was cozy and filled with color, a smattering of papers covered the desk that lay between the boy's mother and the boy's teacher.

"No, that's not exactly right. Your son seems to be interested in only one thing," the Teacher replied reaching into her desk to pull out a file.

The boy's mother knew what was coming. There was only one thing it could possibly be.

"All he talks about, all he seems capable of thinking about," the teacher went on opening the file, quite full of papers, most covered in small doodles of cars, "is automobile racing."

"Well you know, his father designs racing cars," the boy's mother explained quickly. Of course, she knew it was more than that, but it was the best answer she could offer.

"And where is your husband?"

"He's..." The question strikes the boy's mother across the face. She recovered quickly. "He's working. He couldn't make it."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Perhaps the apple hasn't fallen far from the tree," the teacher said, a note of tired resignation in her voice. 

A speck of rage burns in the boy's mother's eye, but she says nothing.

"Is your husband's name Rex?" the teacher asked leafing through the seemingly never-ending pile of doodles where school work should have been.

"No," the boy's mother replied, the touch of anger quickly forgotten and replaced with a touch of bemused confusion. "No, Rex is his older brother. Why?"

"This is the test he turned in last week," the teacher said, pulling out a standardized test the boy had raced the clock to fill out, the ovals filled in to clearly display the words "GO REX GO".

All the boy's mother could do was smile, nervously. 

\- - -

In his chair, the test now long forgotten the boy sits and draws. 

Another assignment has turned into a flipbook, this one showing two race cars slamming into each other and exploding in a blast of fire and debris.

The boy flips through the few pages of animation a few more times before he signs his name at the top.

Speed Racer

Quickly he draws cars racing around his name and the classroom disappears from his mind, just forgotten just like the test. 

All he can focus on is the race in his head, the roar of the engines only he can hear drowns the rest of the world out.

In his mind the racers rush forward, battering down onto each other as they push toward what will be a photo finish.

Speed grips his pencil which has become a steering wheel in his mind as the engine roars, the sound escaping his own mouth.

Two cars move in to block him.

He swerves. His tires screech over the race track and he quickly guns it to race past them.

One of the cars sideswipes him and they are locked together.

With the push of a button the Mach 5, his car, flips into the air.

The car beside him spins wild and slams into the other car that had been attempting to bar him.

The two cars spin out and erupt in a flash of color and light, raining debris down around him as the Mach 5 thunders forward, crossing the finish line while still hanging in the air.

The moment freezes as the sound of the crowd breaks over him, the noise of his engine merging with the roar of the crowd. The din fills his ears.

Back in reality the teacher looked up from her desk at the boy, making an odd cheering sound now very lost in his own reality. With nothing for it, she made a note to talk to the boy's mother.

But she was not the only one looking at the boy.

A couple of rows in front of him sat a girl with a pink barrette. Watching him she cannot help but smile. There was no one in the entire school like him, heck there was no one in the entire world quite like him.

The teacher opens her mouth to say something, to tell the boy to focus on his test, but she is cut off by the bell.

In an instant Speed snaps back to reality and he moves.

"Alright, pencils down, bring your tests-" The teacher begins, but the sound of Speed's pencil slapping onto the desk cuts her off. Speed is already in motion to the door. "-to my desk. Speed Racer slow down!"

But her reprimand never reaches him as the door bangs open and the ten-year-old Speed Racer shoots around the corner and disappears, leaving the rest of the class in the dust. 

\- - -

Racing to the door, Speed found himself outside. He leaped onto the railing and rode it down to the sidewalk below, landing and quickly looking around. His older brother, the man he considered a legend, was supposed to be coming to pick him up after school and that meant he'd get to go to the track.

He loved the track.

Brightly colored cars lined both sides of the street. Bight blues, greens, and yellows seemed to pop out. But he was looking for a special car and his face broke out in a massive grin when he spotted it.

Rex Racer leaned against the bright red Mach 4 waiting for his brother. He'd promised their mother he'd pick up his brother and bring him right home. He more often than not broke the second half of that promise. 

Speed dashed across the road, only pausing for a second to let a couple of beefy cars drive past, and then he was running around the car. A second later the door swung open, he got in, and buckled up, doing it all in what felt like a blink of an eye.

Speed looked up at his big brother and beamed.

"I take it you're ready to go?" Red asked, unable to stop himself from smirking back as he climbed into his car and buckled in.

Speed just nodded as Rex started the engine and pulled out into the road. As always Rex drove with the casual confidence that came from knowing his car and the world around him by heart. 

"So, how was school?" Rex asked, glancing at his brother as he drove.

"Fine," Speed replied as he looked ahead, sounding somewhat distracted. He quickly changed the topic to the only thing he cared about and began to speak at a million miles per hour. "Are you going to the track? Mom said you were. You don't have to drop me off, I could just go with you."

"No way," Rex replied, weaving his way through traffic.

"Oh, come on, take me with you," Speed pleaded. "Come on, please."

"I can't, Speed. Pops would kill me," Rex replied. His little brother was hard to resist, even for him.

"He doesn't have to know. I won't say anything. Nobody will know," Speed pressed on. "Come on, please, Rex, please-please-please-please-pleeeease."

With a sigh, Rex took a turn. "Are you wearing the socks?"

Lickety-split, Speed stuck his sneaker up against the dashboard and pulled back his pant leg to reveal-

A bright red sock.

"You roll us again and this'll be the last time? Deal?" Rex said. He shook his head as he drove on. He didn't need to change course, he'd been driving to the track since they left the school.

"Deal," Speed replied, his grin stretching from one side of his face to the other.


	2. Chapter 2

A lone figure sat in the locker room of the race track. His racing suit was only partially zipped up. He hung his head, silent, as if in prayer. 

As he pulled his thick racing boots on his bright red socks disappeared. They were a memory and a promise as much as a good luck charm.

After a moment he got to his feet and grabbed the pair of gloves, next to them a picture sat. His brother smiled at him from the past.

Speed Racer, now a man, closed his locker and turned away. As he walked from the locker room he pulled his gloves on. Today he'd be racing his hardest challenger yet, and the man wasn't even going to be on the track.

\- - - 

The first generation T-180 screamed along the raceway. Inside it, the young Speed Racer gripped the wheel as he sat on his brother's lap. He giggled with mad glee as the insanely fast car banked up the side of the track and gracefully slid back down, pushing faster and faster as it raced around the track. 

At a speed almost too fast to cope with the car shot around the track, like some massive twisting and winding roller coaster.

A vibration began to build in the back tires.

"Feel that shimmy?" Rex asked leaning into his little brother's ear. "That's your hind legs trying to outrun your front." 

The vibration was subtle, but speed could feel it. The memory of flipping the car not so long ago rushed back to him. "What do I do?" he asked, panic building by the second.

"Stop steering and start driving."

Speed nodded and focused. He could feel the shimmy. His lips tightened, in the same way a hand knots into a fist. 

"This ain't no dead piece of metal. A car's a living breathing thing.

She's alive," Rex said softly, letting his words guide his brother. "You can feel her talking to you, telling you what she wants, what she needs. You just gotta listen."

Speed nodded, doing his best to understand. This made more sense to him than silly math questions about jelly beans. This was where things made sense. 

"Close your eyes and listen," Rex commanded. He was right there, if something went wrong Speed wasn't in any real danger.

Speed closed his eyes and focused. He could almost feel the car react nearly as fast as he could think, he focused harder, his eyes bunching, and it seemed like the line between him and the car disappeared.

"They say that Ben burns drove the last lap of the '68 Vanderbilt Cup with his eyes closed," Rex said.

Speed opened his eyes and the feeling disappeared. "No way!" he said in total disbelief. 

"No? Well, maybe you can't hear it then. Maybe. you ought to start hitting those books--" Rex replied with a smirk as he lifted his foot off the gas and let the car slow.

"No! I hear it!" Speed said, quickly closing his eyes and trying to feel it again. 

Rex still did not hit the gas again, letting the car coast. Its speed would carry them a long way so long as Rex didn't hit the break.

"That so? Okay, Mr. Burns, you tell me when to gas it for the jump," Rex challenged, smiling as the car continued to lose speed.

Speed closed his eyes and focused. He tried to feel the car, feel the shimmy in the back as the speed loose seemed to slow it down. The vibration seemed to change as well. The engine idled and waited.

"Now?" Rex asked.

"Uh-uh," Speed replied, focusing every ounce of his being on the car. The shimmy remained, but it was almost gone.

Almost...

Suddenly like a click, the tires began to spin freely, the shimmy was gone.

"Now," Speed yelled and Rex hit the gas. The car lurched and shot forward like a bullet out of a gun. The car hit the ramp and flew into the air as if carried by the cry of joy Speed let out.

\- - -

The brand new T-180s slammed down on the track on the other side of the jump. The impact of their sleek bodies against the track as they landed and against each other sent sparks flying over the crowd to thunderous applause. 

From their boxes, a pair announces broadcast commentary on the race.

"-Local fan favorite, Speed Racer is just gobbling up this track, slipping car after car-" the first declared loudly.

"No one seems able to lay a glove on this kid-" the second added chomping on a large cigar.

"Clearly a rising star, with several big wins since turning pro, though he remains without a major sponsor," the first responded quickly.

"A win tonight could put him within range of qualifying for the Grand Prix," the second added, rolling his cigar between his thumb and his forefinger.

"Let's hope he doesn't make the same mistakes that his older brother made," the first said shaking his head.

\- - -

Down on the track below inside the cockpit of his racing car, one that feels more like a fighter jet than the car he had driven with his brother, Speed was doing the thing he was born to do.

Though the vibrations were enough to rattle molars loose, there was a calmness, a preternatural ease. Even in all of this chaos and noise, a maelstrom of activity, he was at peace. This was where he was meant to be.

A voice sounded in his headset. "Head's up, Speed!" came the voice of Speed's ace mechanic, Sparky. "Seven o'clock. I got Snake drafting. Pitter-pat."

Speed quickly glanced at his side mirror and spotted it, the Hydrophiidae, an orange and black car emblazoned with the number 12. 

"I got him," Speed said, returning his focus to the road in front of him.

\- - -

In the crew pit, Sparky let his binoculars drop. In front of him, the various readouts for the car's systems glowed. It was all in the green, something Sparky liked to see.

"I figure he'll slingshot after you in the next turn," Sparky said into his earpiece.

"I'm ready," came the voice of Speed.

\- - -

The cars exploded into the next turn and Snake used the draft to slingshot himself by the car ahead of him, the Mach 6.

Waiting for the perfect moment as the Hydrophiidae shot like a bullet toward him, Speed moved his thumb to a button on the steering wheel. The second before Snake's car could make contact Speed slammed his thumb down and jacks shot out from the bottom of the Mach 6, sending it flying into the air.

Unable to react quickly enough, Snake flew right under the Mach 6 and right into the guard rail, bouncing off of it and spinning out of control right back at the Mach 6.

With the grace of a bullfighter Speed turned and caught Snake before sending him spinning back toward the cars behind them. Speed didn't look back, but he could hear the sound of the Hydrophiidae.

The crowd roared and Speed gunned the Mach 6 once more, rocketing down the track.

\- - -

From the crew pit, Sparky smirked. "Great move, Speed," he said leaning forward and noticing that Speed had not let up on the gas and was instead speeding up. "Careful on the butterfly coming up. You may wanna ease up-"

"Not this time," Speed replied, his voice sounding a million miles away.

\- - -

The track ahead twisted and turned. The Mach 6 slammed down the course as if on a slot-guide in the track. It twisted and spun around the turns, effortlessly clinging to the track causing the crowd to roar.

They could feel that something special was happening.

\- - -

In the crew pit, Sparky snapped his stopwatch and checked the time on it. "Holy cannoli, Speed, You know who you're racing?" he asked in stunned disbelief.

"Yeah..." Again Speed's voice sounded distant, soft. 

\- - -

Speed was focused on the car in front of him, a car only he could see, and yet everyone seemed to be aware of it, the Mach 4.

The Mach 4 pushed faster and Speed followed it into the second jump, hitting the gas hard to close the gap.

\- - -

The red Mach 4 slammed into the ground on the far side of the jump and Rex spun the wheel to correct for the landing, quickly slicing around the turn meant to trip up anyone going too fast coming out of the jump. This was his moment and this was his race.

In the stands, the young Speed Racer leaned forward. "Rex's gonna win, ain't he, Pops?"

Speed's father checked his watch but almost couldn't believe it. He picks up his binoculars and peers through them once more.

"He's gonna win it. He's gonna set the course record. Nobody's gonna catch him," Speed went on, a certainty building in his voice.

"Quiet, Speed! There's a lotta race to run," Pops shot back, keeping his own voice measured, forcing any excitement he felt to the side.

"No way. It's over. My brother's the best racer in the world," Speed shot back, too confident to believe anything else. "Everybody else is running for second."

Pops turned to look at his son for a moment and then with a smile turned his attention back through the binoculars and onto the track.

\- - -

In the crew pit, the notorious race fixer Blackjack Benelli grabbed his crew chief by the shirt and dragged him until their noses were almost touching, his face red with rage. "I told you to take him out!"

"We're trying, sir," the crew chief replied, his eyes wide with fear. "He's just too fast."

Benelli threw the crew chief back and turned his attention back to the race. This was too close and he hated close races, almost as much as he hated independent racers.

\- - -

On the track below Rex took the lead and behind him a white phantom car pursued. The Mach 4 took another jump and behind it the Mach 6 pursued.

The Mach 6 landed and Speed continued forward, his tires screeching against the surface of the road as he continued to push his car to the limit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed the commentators from many to just the two to try and streamline things. The movie is more able to cut between them and I felt like it would just slow things down to try something like that.


	3. Chapter 3

"It's unbelievable folks, no one's seen moves like this, since that remarkable night eight years ago," the announcer declared with vigor.

"There's no doubt in my mind, he's gunning for it," the second announcer added around his cigar as he leaned forward.

The younger announcer looked to his elder and nodded. "He's driving like a man possessed, a man haunted by his past," he replied, leaning forward as well, his eyes now locked on the track.

"That record that has stood for eight years," the second announcer replied. He could tell this race was something special, even if it hadn't seemed to catch up with the crowd just yet. This was the kind of race you talked about for years after. "Anyone paying attention can clearly see he is not alone out there, he is chasing someone, he is chasing the ghost of Rex Racer."

\- - -

The race below reflected in the same pair of binoculars that saw Rex broke the record so many years before. Speed's father, Pops Racer, stood the stands looking a little older and a little plumper and a little balder. He was perhaps the only other person in the whole of the stadium who could see the ghostly image of the red Mach 4 racing down the track.

Beside him stood Speed's mother, older and perhaps more careworn than she was when he was ten.

In sync Pops and his youngest son, Spritle, snapped the stopwatches around their necks. Pops looked in disbelief at the stopwatch in his hand.

"Jeepers, he could do it, Pops. He could really do it, couldn't he?" Spritle asked, excitement building in his voice. 

Pops only looked back to his binoculars.

"What if he does? What if he does it, Pops?" Spritle went on, unable to contain his excitement. 

Pops quickly shushed him, but it did little good. 

"I don't know if I can watch this..." Spritle went on, holding his binoculars away from his face, almost afraid to look through them again.

Before he could react, the furry hand of Spritle's pet chimpanzee, Chim Chim, snatched the binoculars and held them to his own eyes. 

The crowd cheered and as he watched Speed fly gracefully through the air, Chim Chim joined in the cheer. 

Not wanting to miss another bit, Sprittle quickly grabbed the binoculars from this furry friend, bumping into the dark-haired beauty next to them.

The dark-haired girl lowered her own binoculars and bit her lip, chewing on the soft pink flesh as the knot in her stomach wound itself tighter.

\- - -

The little girl with the pink barrette who sat only a few seats ahead of Speed walked with a group of girls from their class. She wasn't paying a whole lot of attention to the razor-sharp words of the girls as she walked, her focus on the whirring motors she could hear not far off.

"My Daddy told me he used to work for the Mishida Motorwerks but he quit," said the little blonde leader of the group of girls. Her voice was especially sharp. "My daddy said that was a completely crazy thing to do. He says the whole family is crazy."

"Speed's not crazy," the girl with the barrette said with a frown.

"No, he's just dumb. Probably the dumbest kid in class," the blonde-haired leader pushed on. "Ms. Waterstraat had me alphabetize the IRB tests and you wouldn't believe what that retard did-"

The little girl didn't finish the thought as, much to the shock of the rest of the girls, the fist of the girl with the barrette met with her face. 

Behind the girls, the sound of the whirring motors grew louder and louder until suddenly around the bend came none other than the young Speed Racer, loosely strapped into a small go-cart, racing tight around the track. In its massive helmet, his head seemed to bobble comically. 

For a moment their eyes connected and it seemed as if the world slowed down. The boy found himself lost in her. Maybe it was the way she had her fist up, like his own tightly gripping the go-cart's wheel. Or maybe it was the way her jaw was set, ready to take on anyone. 

Whatever it was about her, from the moment he saw her, he couldn't look away. 

And with his eyes locked on her, he drove right off the road, crashing through a hedge, and going tumbling down the hill.

"Speed!" the little girl cried as she ran to where he had gone off the road.

On the other side of the hedge, laying in a small gully, Speed lay sprawled out on the soft grass. His go-cart lay on its side, it's wheels still spinning madly. 

"Are you okay?" the girl with the barrette asked as she hurried up to him.

Blinking groggily, Speed looked up at her smiling face. She seemed to glow, her face outlined by the deep blue of the sky so far above. "Who are you?"

"I'm Trixie, I'm in your class," she said patiently. She knew Speed hadn't really noticed her before, he was too busy in his own little world.

"Oh... Yeah..." Speed replied, the world seeming to swim around him. FOr a minute he just stared at her, watching the clouds that framed her face drift by. At last, he could only think of one thing to ask. "Hey, would you like to see my car collection?"

With a smile so bright it could blind someone not prepared for it Trixie replied, "I'd love to."

\- - -

In the garage, Rex looked at his red T-180, the Mach 4. His arms were smeared with engine grease all the way up to the white undershirt he wore, which also had smears of grease over it.

He looked over to his father and smirked. Hard work was paying off, the scrapes, dents, and scratches from the race the night before had been hammered and buffed out, before too much longer they'd be getting to repaint it.

They were interrupted by the sound of an angry beehive as Speed's go-cart zipped up the drive and into the garage. 

"Hey, Rex. Hey Pops," Speed said climbing out of the go-cart, followed closely by Trixie.

"Hey, Speedy," Rex said, grabbing a cloth to wipe his hands off. 

"Who's your friend?" Pops asked with a sideways little smile, looking from Speed to the little girl to Rex and back to Speed.

"Her name's Trixie. She's in my class," Speed explained in as off-handed as he could manage. He did not want his dad suspecting anything, not that there was anything to suspect. He already knew his mother would make a big deal about it the second she found out he had brought a girl over.

"Hi," said Trixie with a smile so full of warmth it could have melted an engine block, let alone a man's heart.

"Pleasure to meet you, young lady," replied Pops, who of course knew how to treat a lady, Ma had seen to that with years of patiently training her gear head into a gentleman.

"Hey pops, a guy wanted me to give this to you," Speed said reaching into the back cargo area of the go-cart and pulling out a package. "He said he was a big fan."

"A fan, is it? Not often we get someone with such good taste around here," Pops said taking the package and turning it over in his hands. It wasn't labeled so there wasn't much to go off of. "Where is he?"

"He was in a hurry," Speed replied looking from his father to the package in his hands curiously. "Driving a '68 Fenderson. Sweet set. of wheels."

Rex suddenly looked up from the grease on his hands that had been occupying him. That car... It couldn't be...

"Let me see that," Rex said, grabbing the box from Pops's hands before he could react. He held it to his ear.

It ticked.

In a flash he jammed it into the go-cart, shoving it up against the pedal. He yanked the gear shift into reverse and let the small go-cart shoot out of the garage. 

It had barely made it off of the driveway and onto the road before it exploded, an enormous fireball ballooning up past the treetops.

Trixie's eyes flashed with excitement as she watched fiery debris rain down. "Cool beans!"

\- - -

A storm of emotions raging through her, the same she knew was running through him, Trixie, now a beautiful dark-haired woman, raised the Binoculars once more to her face. 

The glass catching the reflection of the racers below, even though she couldn't see the phantom red racer, she could feel what this race meant for Speed.


	4. Chapter 4

Unable to let the moment pass without comment the older announcer promptly added, "No one from these parts will forget the tragic story of Rex Racer."

"He nearly ruined racing," the younger announcer interrupted. He'd read the reports, the official story was clear cut.

"Single-handedly tried to save racing," the older shot back.

"One of the greatest scandals in the history of the sport," the younger pressed on.

"It is always the brightest star that burns out the fastest," the older announcer replied, shaking his head sadly. 

\- - -

Speed blistered through the high-banked slalom of a track. The red phantom car was no longer in front of him as the two were now neck in neck, overlapping as both drivers moved almost as one.

Banking into a straightaway the two cars split apart once more, the white Mach 5 and it's racing rival the red Mach 4 split apart as they echoed each other along the track. They slid easily over the winding turns as they spun and straightened out in almost perfect mirror images of each other.

Speed's eyes burned as again a voice from his past rushed into him.

\- - - 

"Can I go with you, Rex?" the young speed asked sitting on his brother's bed.

Rex grabbed a small pile of clothes and shoved it in his bag. "Not this time, Speedy," he said sadly.

"When are you coming back?" Speed asked, it still hadn't really soaked in what was happening. 

"I don't know," Rex said, shoving a few more personal items into the bag before snapping it shut. "I don't know." He took a deep breath and after throwing the bag over his shoulder walked over to his brother and got down on one knee. He knew he couldn't explain, but he wanted to make one thing clear to his brother before he had to go. "Look, Speed... one-day people might say things about me. No matter what they say, I hope... I just hope you never believe them."

"I won't," Speed replied, making a promise he would never break.

And knowing it might be the last time, Rex grabbed his brother and pulled him into a tight hug.

A second later he stood at the door, ready to at last leave his family home.

A voice broke through the darkness and Rex turned to see his father sitting alone in the living room. "So, you're quitting?" he asked, his voice brimming with anger.

"I have to," Rex replied, hanging his head. They'd been over it before, and yet it seemed Pops still didn't understand.

"No, you don't. This is a choice," Pops shot back. There was a time to be upset and for him, this was it. "You're selling out, walking away from everything we've built here."

"I'm done arguing with you, Pops," Rex said turning back to the door, his hand reaching out to the knob.

"Don't you walk away from me!" Pops barked getting to his feet.

"You can't tell me what to do. It's my life to live," Rex replied, his hand wrapping around the knob.

"If you walk out that door, you better not ever come back!" Pops barked, taking a step forward.

The door slammed behind Rex for the last time.

Standing alone in the living room all Pops could do was hang his head.

\- - -

Speed grit his teeth and tried to shove the memories aside. He had a race to win. He could see the red phantom car out of the corner of his eye and he pressed harder on the gas, the Mach 6 speeding up as he moved in for another jump. The cars slide past each other, dancing together in a beautiful swirling display of color and speed.

Both cars hit the ramp together and leaped into the air at the same time.

\- - -

Speed sat on the carpeted floor of the living room far too close to the TV to be considered safe. His parents sat on the couch behind him.

In front of them, the TV showed the race, Rex's latest. 

All of them sit in a suspended state, a fist of tension squeezing the breath out of them. One the screen, a cloud of smoke billowing from a tangle of metal.

"Rex Racer, driving the black and red Union car, got in a tangle with Reichenbach, who had been favored to win," the rally announcer called.

"That was no tangle, he took Reichenbach out, "the color commentator shot back pointedly.

"We don't know that but I imagine the WRL will be reviewing this crash," the rally announcer replied, doing his best to calm the situation.

"That's the third DNF crash Racer's been involved in! Review it? Heck, the oughta just suspend him," the color commentator shot back, having none of it.

"Turn it off, Speed!" Pops snapped as he got to his feet. "I don't want you watching this anymore."

Speed looked up to his father as Pops walked out of the room, turning his back on the race that was still on the screen.

\- - -

The Mach 6 slammed into the track and shot forward again.

Speed gripped the steering wheel tighter. The knot in his stomach gripped tighter. He could feel the burn of an old rage as he pushed down harder, his foot grinding down against the pedal. 

\- - -

In his room, hidden under his blankets, the young Speed leaned over the small portable television set. The sound was barely audible.

"Rex Racer almost took Yokima's head off wit that jump!" the announcer called. 

"There's absolutely no doubt in my mind that Rex Racer is the dirtiest driver in the world," the commentator added disgustedly.

Doing his best to not make a sound, Speed wiped the tears from his eyes and hung his head as the light of the TV just seemed to wash over him.

\- - -

Speed's jaw set as he looked forward. He was getting closer to the end of the race and felt like he was being torn in two. The past would not let him go, it held him back and made it near impossible to focus, and yet he knew he had to stay focused.

But there was no outrunning the past.

\- - -

A pair of kids scuffle. Fists fly and eyes are blackened. Kids around the two cheer and jeer until at last a teacher arrives and pulls the boys apart. 

The young Speed Racer glares through a split lip and a black eye.

"I just told him the truth!" The larger boy declared defensively. "His crum-bum brother doesn't belong on a racetrack-- he belongs in jail!"

Wrenching himself free of the teacher's grasp, Speed through himself at the other boy once more, the fight not over yet. It wouldn't be over until the other boy stopped saying that kind of thing about his brother.

\- - -

While on the track the two cars danced against each other, in the announcer box, two announcers continued to speak of things now long past.

"The trial of Rex Racer shook the World Racing League to its very foundation," the older announcer said leaning forward again.

"Once a rat, always a rat and in my book Rex Racer's nuthin' but a rat," the younger of the two said with a finger jabbing forward to emphasize his point.

"the indictment brought down perennial racing powerhouse Uniroyal," the older announcer continued, ignoring the barbed comment of his companion. "Uniroyal was linked to the notorious fixer Blackjack Benelli, still in prison to this day, Benelli was rumored to be behind the Casa Cristo tragedy..."

\- - -

Once more the family gathers around the TV, Speed leans forward to get a better look.

And then everything froze, a sharp intake of breath followed by the crash of the glass that had been in Ma's hand as it slipped from her fingers and smashed to a million pieces against the floor. 

And yet no one moved, all eyes were glued on the screen. Young speed's eyes were wide, reflecting the chaos on screen as the worst thing imaginable happened right in front of him.

The only sound was the announcers talking.

"This has to be one of the worst crashes I have ever seen," the announcer said in stunned shock.

"Terrible, just terrible," the commentator added, having no sharp comeback this time.

"There is still no sign of the driver, Rex Racer," the announcer repeated and hung his head.

And right there, sitting on the living room floor, young Speed's heart broke into more pieces than the glass his mother had dropped.


	5. Chapter 5

Emotion built behind his eyes and speed pressed down on the accelerator, pushing into the floor. He fought to keep control of himself, to stay focused, but the memories were far too strong.

\- - -

His mother held him as he wept that night. There were no words to share, nothing could be said that would lessen the pain. 

Ma looked up at her husband who could only hang his head in shame and walk away. He was going to carry the weight of it for the rest of his life, they all would.

\---

Rubber burned against the raceway as the Mach 6 barreled down the track, every other racers seemingly miles behind, but for Speed, the race was not won yet.

No, there was one more racer he would have to best.

\---

"He's comin' in hard, it's gonna be close," the younger announcer belted leaning forward. It was down to the wire this time.

"Forget the past, he's sayin', this is my night," the older said chomping on his cigar as his eyes locked on the track. 

"There's a new Racer in town," the younger pressed. "Poised to wipe the slate clean, escaping the dark shadow of his older brother."

\---

The checkered flag went up, ready as the two cars came screaming toward the finish line. 

A large clock above the finish line reminds both cars of the real race, Rex's time in bright golden letters, and the time the race has been going in vivid gold. Everyone can see it, Speed is neck and neck and with only a push more...

For Speed, the moment seemed to slow. He looked over to the phantom car, his brother's car, and he could not help but smile, at least slightly. 

Then he took his foot off the accelerator. His own speed would carry him the rest of the way as the Mach 4 surged past him, crossing the finish line only a moment before the Mach 6.

\---

The final time seemed to cause a wave of disappointment over the crowd as the realization that the record was not broken caught up to them.

But to the Racer family, it barely mattered. Speed had won the race and was okay.

"Come on, Let's go! Victory Lane!" Sprittle said happily, already leading the charge.

\---

The announcers sat in the afterglow of the race, looking and feeling exhausted from it all.

"Zut alors! What a race!" the older commentator said leaning back in his chair and crushing his cigar out in the already quite full ashtray in front of him. "By a cat's whisker..."

"The record still stands," the young announcer replied, turning to look at the final times on the board. 

"Folks, I knew Rex Racer and if he's up there somewhere watching this race," the older commentator went on, leaning forward into the mic, "you can bet your ass, he's damn proud of his little brother.

\---

Walls of glass overlooked the twinkling cityscape, high above, the penthouse overlooking the race was crafted like a diamond, every face a perfect stroke of precision.

From a firm leather banquette, the woman leaned forward and picked up her drink. She wore the kind of glasses a nerd would have, bookish and thick-rimmed. She had a body made of the same kind of lines that a sports car or a high-heel had, lines that would make your head turn.

Minx smiled and looked at the man beside her. "He's going to be very good," she said, taking a sip of her drink and leaning back.

The man's eyes did not leave the screen. The room was too dark to really make out any features of his face. He liked it that way. With a name like Racer X, there was no way he was going to be anything but mysterious. "No, he's going to be the best," he replied in a tone, not unlike a growl. He watched as the crowd swarmed over the car and the Speed Racer inside. "If they destroy him first."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter, but I didn't want to jump scenes so abruptly in the middle of the chapter. Next one should be a regular length.


	6. Chapter 6

The phone rang.

From the kitchen, the sounds of Ma cooking could be heard over the din of the TV. Before Ma could react to the phone it was in Sprittle's hand.

"Racer residence," he said in a mock polite tone, the sort only little kids can really get away with.

"Good morning, I was hoping to speak with Speed Racer," came the oily slick voice of a corporate agent.

"He's not interested," Sprittle replied flatly, and with the authority he had given himself, hung up before the agent could get another word out. 

"Sprittle!" Ma scolded.

"It's true!" Sprittle replied earnestly.

"That's not for you to say," Ma corrected and returned to her cooking.

"Speed's gotta drive for Pops!" Sprittle replied with conviction. There really was no other alternative.

"That's for Speed to decide," Ma replied, shaking her head.

Before anything else could be said, the phone rang again. Ma moved, but Sprittle was again faster.

"Hello?" Sprittle asked cautiously.

"Is this the Racer residence?" came the voice of yet another oily agent.

Sprittle looked to his mother, her eyebrow shot up questioningly. "Nope," he replied and again the phone was hung up before another word could be exchanged. "Wrong number."

Ma shook her head and busied herself cooking. She wondered how long this would go on for, now that she had another superstar as a son.

\---

Upstairs Speed slept like a brick, easily sleeping through the clang of Pops's weights as the old man worked out one room over. He had taken Rex's old room and decorated it to his liking, covered in racing posters, brightly colored pennants, and even a couple of hanging flags. The centerpiece of it all was the vintage Ben Burns poster tacked above the bed.

There was a light knock at the door and Ma poked her head in. "Come on, champ," she said with a smile as she laid eyes on her slumbering son. " Rise and shine. Breakfast's ready."

Speed moved, but his hair seemed to remain asleep, staying molded to the shape of his pillow as he attempted to push himself up. "I'm up," he grunted as he pushed himself into a seated position and stretched. "I'm up."

\---

With the grace and speed of a Racer, Ma quickly spatula'd up another batch of pancakes from the griddle, and much like one would shovel coal into the blazing maw of a locomotive, she dumped them onto the plates of Sprittle and Chim-Chim.

Almost as soon as they got them, the pair set to work making them disappear again, after a heavy coating of syrup of course.

Pop's looked over the morning paper and did his best to ignore his son and the chimp as they began to feud over stolen pancakes. " 'It was a virtuoso display of talent, the likes of which has not been seen at Thunderhead since Racer the elder dropped jaws eight years ago,' " He read aloud. "Now, as we once again, pull our collective jaws up from the floor, we have to ask, will it be different this time, or will tragedy..."

"That's enough of that, Hon," Ma said, crossing her arms. 

Pop's offered a tight smile as he set down the paper, almost immediately to be picked up by Sparky.

"I just can't believe there wasn't one mention of Racer motors in there," Sparky complained as he thumbed through the paper.

"That's because the Sponsors run the media, Sparky," Pops replied bitterly. 

"Morning everyone," came the bright voice of Trixie as she walked in through the back door. "Is Speed up yet?"

"In spirit anyway," replied the Speed as he stumbled into the kitchen looking perhaps a little worse for wear, even if his hair had been given a once over by a comb since he'd pried himself from his pillow.

"Hey Superstar, did you see the papers?" Trixie asked with a big smile. "They're all in love with you."

"Really?" Speed asked, quickly snatching the paper from Sparky and looking through it.

"Yeah, but there sure is a lot of speculation about which team's going to pick him up," Sparky said, giving Speed a look and rolling his eyes. 

"Really?!" Speed asked, excitedly flipping to the rumors page and beginning to read, not getting a few lines in before the room began to rumble, glasses shaking and plates rattling. 

"What the..?" Pops asked, getting to his feet and looking around.

"EARTHQUAKE!" Sprittle screamed as he and Chim-chim began to panic. "Quick! Under the table! Into the door-frame."

"Sprittle clam down," Pops barked.

"Pops, the kitchen's the most dangerous room in the house during an earthquake!" Speed quickly said as he got to his feet.

The whole table shivered and it seemed the hanging ceiling light might have shaken free when at last the tremor began to subside.

Sprittle and Chim-chim, now prepared with a pot and metal colander on their heads for protection, looked around skeptically, expecting something terrible to happen.

The silence was deafening.

And then the doorbell rang.

Pops was at the door in an instant and swung it open, only to be greeted by the sight of the massive turbine of a private K-Harrier jet parked on his front lawn.

A well dressed older man stood on his doorstep holding a cigar box and a bouquet of flowers. His smile was as bright and shiny as a surgeon's scalpel, and just as dangerous, not that anyone knew.

He opened his mouth and spoke, but any words were lost over the howl of the turbines. Realizing they could not hear him, he gestured, asking permission to come in with his hands as his words would not due.

Pops stood aside to let him in and as soon as the door snapped shut behind him the noise was lessened to the point they could hear.

"Mr. and Mrs. Racer, I hope you will forgive this imposition," the well-dressed man said, much easier to hear now that the massive loud turbines weren't deafening everything. He handed the bouquet of flowers to Ma. "These are Blue-belles, from Eden Inc. I am told they will bloom at least three times, each time a different color."

Ma Racer oohed and awed over the flowers in appreciation before going to find a vase for them.

The well-dressed man handed the box of cigars to Pops. "And Mr. Racer, these are for you," he said with a gracious smile. "Straight from the Isle of Kamut, hand-rolled. Premium Blend."

Pops looked to Ma, both more than a little taken aback. "Uh, thanks, but..." he began and looked to his wife one more time, he turned back to the well-dressed man. "Who are you?"

"I am E.P. Arnold Royalton Esquire," the well-dressed man replied, seeming to rise up and inch taller as he introduced himself. "President and Chairman of Royalton Industries and it is my honor to meet you both."

He reached out to take Pops' free hand with a vigorous shake before letting it go.

"Mr. Racer, I have been an ardent admirer of your work for years. I remember the first time I saw a prototype for the Mach-1," Royalton said, moving deeper into the room, looking around the house. He turned his attention back to Pops after a moment. "I told everyone that it didn't belong on a race track, it belonged in an art museum."

Pops could only chuckle for a moment in response. "Yeah, she was a beaut," he said sheepishly.

"No sir! She was a revelation!" Royalton corrected, with feeling. But then quickly paused to sniff the air. "Oh, dear. I interrupted your breakfast. Is that pancakes, I smell?"

"Are you hungry, Mr. Remmington?" Ma asked. She always made plenty of pancakes, Sprittle and Chim-chim made sure none went to waste.

"A figure like mine requires constant attention, Mrs. Racer," Royalton replied, patting his rather rotund belly.

"Do you like pancakes?" Ma offered, a bit surprised that someone so fancy would have any interest in plain old pancakes.

"When I was a child we used to say, 'pankuken zin liesben'," he replied with a sincere look on his face.

Both gave him a confused look, neither spoke even a word of German.

"Pancakes are love," Royalton said by way of explanation, suddenly quite certain this was going to be easier than taking candy from a baby.

**Author's Note:**

> So far this has been a lot of fun to write. I look forward to hearing what people think.


End file.
